"Jan, save Jan, Peter!"
She would have followed him out again into the slashing rain, but Mistress Lynn called her back peremptorily.
The old woman was terribly upset. She had had to lie in the four-poster and know that something dreadful was taking place outside. She had watched Jan rush out, then Lucy, then Peter; but she had heard nothing save the roar of waters, and seen nothing save a faint white gleam as they foamed by. Now she strove for composure, and wiped the tears that had come unbidden upon her cheeks.
"Go and fettle thyself," she said to the shivering girl. "Then you'll be fit to look after the old man if he needs looking after any more."
Peter raced the beck through the copse where it was ploughing among the tree-trunks; he sought along the basin by the falls, but he could not find a trace of Jan Straw. He shouted, but he could not hear his own voice among the roaring of the waters, much less a cry for help were it uttered. He followed the flood through Cringel Forest to the village, where he told what had happened. Then, knowing that there was no chance now of finding the old man alive, if there had ever been a chance, he retraced his steps to Greystones.
He found Lucy kneeling before the fire drying her hair. A sob broke from her when he returned alone for she had hoped against hope.
"You couldn't find him?" she said.
He shook his head sorrowfully.
"Poor old Jan is gone," he replied.
Lucy covered her face with her hands, but the old woman leaned back upon her pillows, a red patch on each cheek.